


It feels like Christmas

by Craftnarok



Category: Black Sails
Genre: And More Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Surprise Gifts, roll up roll up get your christmas fluff here!, tacky decorations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 13:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17081459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftnarok/pseuds/Craftnarok
Summary: Flint has a Christmas surprise for Silver.





	It feels like Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/gifts).



> You wants fluff, I'll gives ya fluff!

“I’m back!”

Flint stepped out of the kitchen as the front door slammed, announcing Silver’s return. He’d been gone at least two hours longer than it reasonably ought to take to buy chocolates and booze, but Flint had been quite deliberate in sending him on a multi-shop quest across town; there were magpies with more focus than Silver when it came to shiny Christmas window displays, and Flint had been depending on it to keep him out of the flat for the afternoon. He wouldn’t have counted planning surprise gifts amongst his skills, but apparently he’d been underestimating himself.

“Busy out there?” he said nonchalantly, hovering in front of the door to the spare room, blocking it off.

“Fucking awful,” Silver said, unravelling an enormous scarf from around his neck and peeling his coat off. “I almost had to shank a little old granny for the last tin of Quality Street.”

“Only almost?” Flint said, taking his coat and scarf and hanging them up.

“The shanking was Plan B. Plan A was pulling my phone out and pretending to ring my poor, sad little son Oliver to tell him Daddy couldn’t get the chocolates that Mummy always used to, but it was alright, because we could still enjoy Christmas without them, just the two of us.”

“You’re an awful person,” said Flint.

“I know. I think the watery eyes were a bit much, because she paid for them too.” Silver grinned, holding the tin aloft like a prize.

“Jesus Christ. You know you’re going to hell, right?” Flint tried to look disapproving, but he thought taking the chocolates and clutching them like they were worth their weight in gold might have undercut the point somewhat.  

“Yep. I’ll save you a seat.”

“At least we’ll have snacks for the journey,” said Flint.

“That’s the spirit.” Silver thrust a clinking bag full of wine in Flint’s direction as well and headed into the living room.

Flint took his armfuls of shopping through to the kitchen table, then as he peered round the living room door to offer Silver a cup of tea he found him surreptitiously pulling something out of another bag and lifting it up to the carefully decorated mantelpiece.

“What is that?” he said, satisfied when Silver jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Nothing. Just a decoration I bought.” Silver slipped it shiftily behind his back.

“Uh huh. Show me.”

“Let me put it up first. Wait- hey!”

Silver attempted to wrestle the object away from Flint, but his still-chilly fingers were too sluggish and clumsy to get a good grip. Flint held it at arm’s length, his lip curling in disdain.

“No,” he said.

“But-”

“No! You are not putting a flashing, glittery, purple Rudolph on my nicely decorated mantelpiece!”

Even having known that Silver would be lured into the shops with the most tasteless decorations in their windows, Flint still somehow hadn’t been mentally prepared for Silver to actually bring any of it home with him. He wasn’t sure that even he was capable of looking as disgusted as the decoration in his hands demanded, but he was giving it everything he had. If it was possible for curled lip to touch furrowed brow, he would have managed it.

“There’s no need to look like someone just shat in your pillowcase,” Silver sniped. “Watch your face doesn’t get stuck that way.”

“Mature.”

“Don’t be boring! It’s our mantelpiece, not just yours, and you’ll hardly be able to see it for the thicket you’ve got up there anyway.” Silver said, eyes beseeching.

“That 'thicket' is holly and ivy,” Flint said. “As in ‘deck the halls with boughs of holly’? From the song?”

“Yeah, no shit, and you’ve got an entire woodland of it there. There’s probably a whole ecosystem living in it.”

“It’s traditional and it’s classy,” Flint said, scowling down at Rudolph again to punctuate the statement.

“Well, since we’re neither of those things, you won’t mind me queering up your classy Christmas terrarium with some glitter,” Silver said. “Throw the poor little Jewish orphan a bone here.”

Flint sighed. Silver always knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted. Flint had never considered himself the type of person to get so wrapped around somebody else’s little finger, and yet here he was, hands covered in purple glitter, relenting and holding the abomination out for Silver to take.

“You’ve got a real trashy streak, you know that?” he said.

“I prefer the term ‘vibrant’, thank you.”

Flint hummed dubiously, but before he could speak again his phone began to ring. As he answered it he was forced to watch Silver not only wedge that fucking reindeer between his carefully arranged holly boughs and ivy trails, but also produce a singing, dancing snowman, a fat Nisse with an outrageously tall hat, and a set of garishly coloured fairy lights. He made an impotent noise of irritation, drawing an impish smile out of Silver, before he remembered he was supposed to be paying attention to the person on the other end of the line.

“Sorry, what was that? The signal’s not great,” he said, turning around and ignoring Silver’s snort. “Oh. Alright. Yeah, no, that’s not a problem. Of course. Will do. Buh-bye.”

“Who cancelled?” Silver said, before Flint had even hung up.

“Max and her whole clique, including Idelle and Augustus, though I don’t know why she rang me and not you,” Flint said.

“Probably because I’d make her feel guilty just for the fun of it. Why can’t they come?”

“Because Eleanor’s moved her annual yuppie party to tonight and they’ve decided with a few hours notice that that’s the place to be.”

“You’re showing your age. I don’t think anyone says ‘yuppie’ anymore. Still, at least she was honest about it,” Silver said, shrugging.

Flint tutted and, sounding deflated, he said, “Well, without Hal and Miranda and now them, it’ll just be you, me, and Madi, unless she ditches us for Eleanor too.”

“Not likely. But um,” Silver paused in the middle of winding the fairy lights round Rudolph’s antlers, his voice carefully light, “actually I ran into Muldoon in town and we got talking and I might have asked him if he wanted to come along too.”

Flint groaned more dramatically than was strictly necessary. “Oh fantastic. Excellent. You, me, your girlfriend, and your ex, all watching a Christmas film together with nibbles and wine. What a perfect evening.”

“Oh come on. You like both of them,” said Silver

“I like Madi. I tolerate Muldoon. I don’t know what you ever saw in him. The man’s not overburdened with intelligence.”

This time it was Silver’s turn to tut. “Whereas you’re under-burdened with generosity. It’s Christmas and he’s lonely. Don’t be a Scrooge about it.”

“Loneliness is character building,” Flint muttered.

“Jesus Christ, James.”

“Fine, but I get to choose the film.”

Flint was aware that he sounded childish, but he’d had the whole evening planned and he wasn’t enjoying having his mental image of the surprise gift reveal rearranged at such short notice. Not that it really required an audience, but there was a grain of self-awareness in his brain that knew full well he was just as theatrical as Silver sometimes.

“When you say ‘choose the film’, you mean pick the one you always pick?” Silver said. “Muppet Christmas Carol is so much more fun. Though sometimes I worry you’re turning me into the Waldorf to your Statler. How aren’t you tired of It’s a Wonderful Life by now? Clearly nothing says Christmas like a suicidal man on a bridge.”

Flint’s half-formed and almost definitely evening-ruining retort was luckily cut off by a clatter from the spare room. He froze in place. _Shit._ So much for his amazing surprise managing skills.

“What was that?” Silver said, wiping glitter off his hands onto his jeans and looking askance at him.

“Probably just the mountain of very generously chosen presents I got for you all falling over,” said Flint, edging towards the door. “Let me deal with it.”

“Uh huh,” said Silver, watching Flint for another half-second before he sprang towards the hallway with a speed that Flint privately thought no one-legged man should really possess.

Flint caught up with him as Silver’s hand twisted the door knob, wrapping his arms around Silver’s waist and pulling him back against his chest in a ridiculous struggle, but not before the door swung open to reveal the makeshift barricade across the room and the two kittens frozen mid-wrestle amongst the scattered contents of a biscuit dish.

“Oh my god,” Silver said, his arms going limp at his sides.

“Surprise...” Flint mumbled, pressing his face into Silver’s hair and sighing. “I was going to bring them out after dinner when you were distracted by the guests. So much for that plan.”

Silver twisted in Flint’s arms, peering at him with that steady look that saw straight through to the heart of him every single time.

“I take back the generosity comment,” he murmured.

“Mhm,” Flint hummed, before leaning in to kiss him. “Happy early Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.”

Silver ran his hands up Flint’s back, leaning forward into another kiss, slower and softer.

Flint pulled away, brushing his thumb over Silver’s jaw. “Did you just wipe glitter up my back?” he said.

Silver winked, pecked him once more on the lips, and then escaped into the spare room to clamber over the cardboard wall to where the kittens were.

“Have you named them?” he asked.

“Nope,” said Flint, joining him on the floor. “I thought I’d let you do that. They’re both boys.”

Silver waggled his fingers across the carpet, the kittens pouncing after them in a wide circle around him. The ginger one was faster, but the tabby had a conniving glint in his eye, Flint thought. Then again, what cat didn’t?

“What’s the name of the miserable bloke in It’s a Wonderful Life again? And the angel?” said Silver.

“George and Clarence,” said Flint.

“Alright then. George and Clarence. That was easy,” said Silver, pulling the ginger kitten onto his lap and stroking his ears.

“You’re going to name them after characters from a film you hate?” said Flint.

“No, I’m going to name them after characters from a film you love.” Silver didn’t look at Flint as he said it, but his expression was soft and earnest.

Flint reached out to twine his fingers with Silver’s, watching as the kitten clambered over his legs and once again leapt on top of his brother.

“Your horrible Christmas taste is going to be punished when they drag all that tat off the mantelpiece, you know,” he said.

Silver laughed. “If you hate that stuff, you’re going to really love the ugly Christmas jumpers I got for tonight.”

“You’re exhausting,” Flint sighed, squeezing Silver’s hand.

“Love you too.”


End file.
